


Changling Fates

by Icarius51



Category: Highschool DxD (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Genderbending, Genderfluid Character, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Other, SI-OC, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 23:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarius51/pseuds/Icarius51
Summary: Hunted for their heritage and power, a young changling flee's into the underworld of Vegas. Shifting faces, unknown trusts, and hunted for what they are, they hid.Now, years later, they get dragged into the troubles and chaos of a world on the edge of war.And why is the Strongest Young Devil here?





	Changling Fates

_ Fremont Street, Vegas, Nevada, USA _

_Friday night._

I wandered through the crowds on the street, listening to the heady pulse of music and letting the pulse and thrum of the people around me echo through the air.

Twenty-one years in my new life and I still couldn’t get past the sheer thrill of knowing that for all its differences, some things stayed the same. Here, The nightlife of Vegas, it was easy to see. The people, loud and joyous. Most were only here for a few days, a few nights. They came to play their luck, to see the sights or visit an attraction. A city with no limits.

And If I didn’t know where to look, than I couldn't tell that it was different than the one I visited in my past life.

For someone hiding from the world, it was wonderful. The crash of humanity against itself, the raging motion and change of luck and impulses. The scent of a different type of magic, of the innate chaos borne by the city. It was powerful enough to keep anyone hidden if they could play their cards right. The City of Sin, yet devils rarely tread among the masses. Too tight, too crowded. Most devils, the lords and ladies, and those peerages would never drop to the level of walking among the masses as I did.

It kept me out of sight, out of mind, and hidden in plain sight.

I stepped off the street, the early spring heat being chased away by the rush of the air as I stepped into the Fremont Casino. I glanced in the polished metal side of a pillar as I passed. Button up shirt, slacks, converse, ball cap. Enough chub to not look sexy, but clean enough and old enough to not get carded. Someone forgettable.

In my hand, a poker chip flickered back and forth in my grasp, one of the many I held onto for convenience.

I felt like roulette, tonight.

Inside my soul, something clicked and began to shift. It was my companion, the machinations of a dead god, my guide to safety. As I sat here, among the chaos, I was fueled by it, every loss, every win. It would let me build and build. And when the time came, it would tilt the odds in my favor. For that was its nature.

I cashed in the hundred dollar marker and pulled my chips to my side as I sat at the table, flashing my ID for the young girl running the table.

I sat and watched and played. I played slow, cautiously as always. Losing a bit, and gaining a bit. I played the outside, the better the odds. But as the game went on I slowly began to let myself lose slightly, let my luck seem to turn sour, even as I felt the slow build of probability in my grasp. I nursed a drink, an old fashioned, my second of the night.

At the table, several others experienced good luck, a rush of short wins and easy losses. And with that, I reached, and let the trigger of the gear in my soul pulse.

A risky gambit. A shift of body language that belied tiredness and annoyance. This was a low table after all, and it was cheap. I threw down twenty on red, and another ten on the board, mostly scattered, but with my power, I could feel it, the flickering of probability.

Ten more… on red seven.

The ball spun around the wheel. I had fifteen in chips left, and I let myself seem tired, out of it.

And the ball… stopped on red seven.

I grinned, laughed, making sure it sounded surprised, half desperate. I checked my count. $405.

I tossed five to the croupier, and cashed out, getting four more $100 markers.

With a smile, I wandered off, heading to the cashier. But I still had enough… no, best not to carry my luck too far.

I tapped a slot machine on the way past, letting the last of my charged up probability pulse through its mechanics.

Thirty minutes or so later, someone would win big on a first pull. I cashed out 300 at the cashier, and pocketed it, before tipping my hat and heading out.

A few minutes in the crowd, a bit of a shift in my stance, and a few turn arounds, and I was in the back streets of Vegas once more.

“Not a bad day.”

\-----

I wandered through the streets of Vegas as the sunset, the last of the early summer heat pounding down on me as I unbuttoned my shirt, straightening it out and revealing the black Foo Fighters t-shirt under it. The hat got pulled off and stashed in a pocket, my short brown hair stuck with sweat and making me grimace before I broke up its cohesion and ran my fingers through it, letting it rest in a more relaxed disheveled state, the brown suddenly darker in the night air.

That taken care of, I shoved my hands in my pockets and slouched slight, before turning away from Fremont and the Strips direction.

As I paced through the streets, I let my thoughts wander.

Three years of living in the shadow of Vegas.

Another two before that of running from shadows, of changing my face and name at every twist and turn, hunted by those sick fucks who wanted me as a weapon, or a trophy.

From the ‘Three Biblical Factions’. From the Yokai. From the Fae and the Norse. From every little hunter and mercenary who dealt in magic and blood and slavery.

After all, my blood may have been thin, but my father was a changeling, and his mother, and so on. And while it got weaker with each generation, distilled more and more. I was special. A sacred gear, that apparently influenced me even before birth. A near impossibly low chance of a true bloodline resurgence and I was it.

This face wasn't mine.

I drifted with the crowds through the streets of Vegas. A DJ played music off the back of a truck, and I stood in the crowds, shifting from white to Hispanic with practiced ease. A restroom break where I lost thick layers of pudges, turning the packed loose fat and water into tighter layers that made me stand taller by an inch or two. My hair changed colors every few streets, from black and short to blond and long, to a brown mop, to a red crewcut. My face shifted from chubby salaryman, into a lean hipster, to old gambler, and than into to young and energetic. My Foo Fighter shirt got covered by a hoodie, and then both were swapped for a ‘I love Vegas’ shirt.

After three hours, as the night sky deepened and the less determined partiers headed back to hotels and beds and the pleasures of the flesh, I finally made my way home.

The condo was middle class at its core. A one bedroom affair with a sizable living room and kitchen attached. It had an ok view of the city in the distance, the lights and activity of the Vegas strip lighting up the horizon. Closing the door as I entered, I sighed in relief and stretched up.

A flicker of motion across my skin, long rippling surges of flesh and mass shaping and reshaping itself as I pulled the compressed cells apart, letting lipids that I had stashed across my body reshape and redesign them. A tilt of my head and I felt my adam's apple reduce, but not quite fade. My body, fairly square and masculine, loosened and gained curves and thickness in a variety of places. A flicker of thought and the loose dyes and proteins in my hair drained back into my body, leaving a shock of nearly translucent white hair in an unruly pixie cut.

My skin quickly followed suit, the deep tan that I had before I got to the condo shifting and swirling before a somewhat shadowy grey took its place.

Tilting my head a moment, I decided that I had been a guy for long enough for the day and that it was warm enough I really didn’t want to deal with sweat soaked balls all night.

A shiver of cells and the twist of pleasure of my cells converting one erogenous zone to another. Within seconds, I was sporting a slowly deepening slit and camel toe in my boxers instead of a cock and balls, while the mass was rerouted across my ass, plumping up my hips just a bit more.

As the last of my major transformations settled, I strode across the room, reaching up to adjust the now bulging front of my tourist T-Shirt and loosen the belt on my slacks another notch for my new hips. Snagging a bottle of water from the fridge, I leaned over the counter that denotes the separation from the kitchen to the living room, sipping at the water as I turned the TV on. Tabbing through channels, I considered my financial situation.

Three hundred bucks up from earlier, plus the few grand I still had stashed in my room and the variety of chips from casinos across the city were locked away. I could spend tomorrow doing personal things, using my ‘local’ alias once more to get some food for my nearly empty kitchen.

Changing the channel to the news, I wandered from my kitchen to my bedroom, grabbing one of several plain leather bound books from the shelves before wandering back and falling across my couch with a thump, squirming to get comfortably sprawled as I opened the spell book and got to rereading a section regarding teleportation once more.

“Spatial distortions versus sympathetic portals… interesting.”

The news droned on, only the basics bleeding through my concentration on my research. I had notebooks on personal things to try and my own attempts at crafting magic, but for now, I was just reviewing things I already knew.

It wasn’t until the faint glow outside, the lights of the Vegas Strip, began to flicker and fade, that I looked up and noted the time.

“Shit, already that late?”

I sighed and stretched, feeling the subtle curves of my body and the tense build-up of dead and overused cells that came from a day of transformations. I began to process of stripping them of any leftover nutritional value and set the book down on the shelf as I headed to the shower. A struggle with my tight shirt made me sigh, before reforming my torso and shoulders so I could pull it past my breasts and toss it across the room to a hamper overflowing with clothes, quickly followed by the socks, pants, and underwear I had on. My belt got hooked next to the door as I strode nude through the room. Another chore for tomorrow to add to the list, I needed to do laundry. As my body began to finish the process of stripping anything left, I could feel the fluids pushing through my stomach. A thought and I redirected them, pulling the liquids and destroyed genetics to a different part of my body.

In seconds I could feel the pressure building in my new groin, the fluids that I had broken down were building against the inside of my crotch, pushing and forming a small bulge as I filtered them into my unused womb.

As the pressure twisted and built, I bit my lip, feeling my blood rush to my face as a growing sense of pleasure began to pulse, the muscles shifting and contracting around the bulge, the erogenous zones I had crafted doing their work. I opened the curtain and stepped into my shower, leaning back and resting my ass on the smooth tile of the wall as my bare feet developed more traction to brace with.

I was quiet, for the most part, as my fingers slid down and began to caress and massage the slit between my legs, before sliding in and pulling and stretching the inner walls. As my breath came heavier, a flash of thought had the last of my adam's apple fade away, raising the pitch of my voice from a throaty and nearly silent moan, to a higher pitched hiss of pleasure. My fingers work got more and more intense, digits lengthening and skin growing rougher, even as my body was shifting against it as I increased my own sensitivity. Slowly my work made my gasps and soft whines come to a breathy conclusion, a splatter of liquid from between my thighs splashing to the ground. I shook my head before noticing that in the heat of the moment I had grown my hair longer, the pixie cut now reaching my shoulder on one side. A scoff of embarrassment and I squeezed the last of the extra liquid from my womb, before lowering my sensitivity.

Toweling down, I sighed and glanced at myself in the mirror, letting my deep grey eyes flicker and flash like prismatic lenses as I settled on a personal favorite, a deep blue with shades of grey and black woven through its colors. A moment to set them, and I yawned, running a hand through my hair before I wandered back and flopped on my bed, drawing a soft and thin fleece blanket up over my naked form.

It took only a few minutes before the exertion of the day caught up to me, and I faded off to sleep. 

* * *

 

_“Mother!” deep purple eyes gleamed in happiness as their bearer walked in the door. His mother was sitting near the window overlooking the back garden, the fake sunshine of the underworld sky was set to show afternoon across the land. Her deep brown hair was braided around her shoulder, and in her hands was a cup of tea,_

_Blinking his mother turned towards him in surprise “Ah, Sairaorg! I thought you were training! I wasn’t expecting you for another few days!”_

_“I wanted to surpise you! My training is going great!” Sairaorg grinned and sat at the chair across from him, looking at his mother with joy… and ignoring a faint sense of ‘Wrong’ that rang through him. His mother smiled at him, and her purple eyes closed._

_“That's great honey… Have you become stronger?”_

_“I have! Like I promised!”_

His mother tilted her head, and suddenly the lights dimmed.

“Than why am i still sleeping?”

Sairaorg boltled up, rivulets of cold sweat pouring down his chest as the pale purple light of the false moon shone through his windows. He couched and swallowed bile that built in his throat.

“Gah… Fuck.”

Soft hands slid up his back and wrapped around his sides, and the loose blonde hair of his queen draped over his shoulder, as she nuzzled into his neck. She was careful, slow, hands rubbing and caressing his tense shoulders and spine.

“A bad dream… love?”

He sighed and twisted to see his queen. Her blonde hair, usually braided and pulled back, hung loose and twisted about her shoulders. Her green eyes were still faintly clouded by sleep and the soft afterglow of earlier activities in their bed.

Sairoarg groaned in soft apology and slowly leaned over her, pressing his queen against the mattress as he slid roughly calloused hands up her sides and back down to her hips. “The kitchen one… again.”

Kuisha Abbadon frowned and reached up to run her hand through the short black strands of his hair. “I’m sorry… Do you want to cuddle with me for a while? I know we have much to do tomorrow… to visit your clans american territory.”

Closing his eyes, Sairoarg nuzzled into his queens neck. “Just lay with me, my queen… my love…” He murmured into the throat of his fiance.

Slender arms and calloused hands wrapped and pulled their naked forms close and snug, warm under thin sheets in the cool night air of their estate. They spent some time speaking softly, murmuring words of love and affection until the artificial dawn would light their world once more.

* * *

_Mesquite Nevada_

_81 miles Northeast of Vegas_

_Saturday morning_

“Are you sure about this, Jack?” the nasally voice rang out through the camp site. A half dozen rusty trucks and SUV’s were parked around a camper van and a firepit, the crackling flamed the only light in the deep dark of predawn.

“Shut it Bart. you know there's gonna be a freak or two hiding in Vegas. We go, we sniff one or two out, tie em up, and then head to LA for an auction. Someone’ll buy em. We got that ‘Sacred gear’ tracker, the compendium, and the tranquilizer rifles. We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so Jack.”

“Ah, you worry too much Bart.” a grin in the dark.

Behind the two, a horse trailer covered in magical markings and sealed shut echoed with faint sobs.

“With a little luck, we’ll be rich.”


End file.
